


welcome madness, say hello

by themadnutter



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, POV Second Person, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 22:43:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13913694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themadnutter/pseuds/themadnutter
Summary: there's something infectious about jerome's brand of crazy.





	welcome madness, say hello

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from oingo boingo's "insanity", aka a great jerome and jerome/oswald song

on the first day, he worms his way into your ear and promises to be your best friend.  you cower away from where your cells meet and try not to think about what happened to his face.

when you try to sleep, his laugh rings in your head like a carnival.

-

the second day, he's watching you.

you've distanced yourself from the group during lunch, defenses raised as you pick at the slop on your tray.  you try not to draw attention to yourself.

it isn't possible. every time you look across the room, you meet his eyes, bright and curious and not quite all there, like something else is watching you from behind his eyes. like you're an insect pinned to a board, something meant to be studied and treasured, to be killed and kept.

and because he's king, everyone else follows his lead and watches you too.

they jeer and howl, your name on their babbling lips as they laugh at each other.

for once, jerome doesn't laugh.

he crushes pineapple with his fingers, licks off the juices and doesn't look away.

you hunch into yourself, give him a cold shoulder, and pretend your cheeks aren't warm.

-

he swoops on you like a vulture, talons digging into your shoulder as he swings you around, says _let me have a look at ya._

you clench your jaw and lift your chin in defiance as he puts you on display for his crew, and you look him in the eye, dare him to find something worth his time.

for a moment, you worry what he will find on your face. but when his own is a gnarled, sloppily healed tangle of flesh and scars, you find yourself without fear.

(you are ugly, but so is he.)

he prods your chest with one hand, and you lash out, trying to slap his arm away while you gnash your teeth. that gets you one of those cacophonous laughs as he twirls a step backward, looks over his shoulder at his crowd of adoring fans.

 _feisty,_ he crows, _just how i like them._

you tell him _i want nothing to do with you._

he smiles, torn cheeks stretching demonically long as he leans in, and you should fear for your life, but all you can think is that his eyes are green-blue shades of your own -

 _funny_ , he says, voice like gravel, _because i want everything to do with you._

-

everything, it turns out, is a humiliating affair.

jerome plays with your brain like it's made of clay, something to mold in his terrifying image. he dresses you up to the jeers of the crowd, and all you can do is try not to shake when declares he's here to set you free.

you're reminded of the last time you were incarcerated here. another time, another man, one who also intended to 'fix' you.

strange sought to make you sane. jerome seeks to make you mad.

you've always trusted stability over chaos. but after the sterile cruelty of the doctor's torture, you think you can do with a little more madness.

(you tell jerome this, later, when your back is pressed against the cell wall closest to him. jerome's eyes glow like a cat in the night, and when he smiles, you smile too.)

-

there's something infectious about jerome's brand of crazy.

it grows on you like a second skin, something new and not quite yours, something you're borrowing and that doesn’t quite fit you right.  you'll never be like him, of course, could never even dream of letting loose the way he does, but you come to understand his appeal.

understand. admire. you don't know what to call it. but you enjoy his unpredictability, rely on his destabilizing personality as the only stabilizing force you know in this new world.

one minute he's swinging an arm around you, pulling you in close and whispering conspiracies, and the next he's jamming his elbow into your ribs with a demand to be entertained. you snarl like the beast he wants you to be, and he lets you pummel him into the ground, all bloody laughter as he goads you, _is that the best you got? hit me harder, pengy._

you hit him again and again, and then he rolls you over, pins you down, leers at you with his lips painted red -

_aren't you glad i set you free?_

you growl, spit blood in his face with a sunny smile, and he laughs, laughs, laughs.

-

he welcomes himself into your room, paces like a tiger, inserts himself into your personal space like he belongs there - and maybe he does, you think when he leans in real close, says _we're gonna make something beautiful together._

before, you'd flinch away, but now you soak in his close proximity, bloom beneath his crazed attention, a kind of fascination you've never known before.

you nod, and he cups your cheek, gives it a soft slap for good measure. _you and me._

and he laughs that hyena cackle, and you can't help it, you laugh along with him, laugh until your lungs burn and you're choking for air -

laugh until you lean in too close, and your lips brush his.

you freeze, an apology on your lips, but jerome just blinks, laughs harder, _you and me, ozzie._

and when he kisses you, he tastes like freedom, the kind you imagined outside of your dirty uniform and these prison walls, found only in the embrace of a madman with a wicked way.

he kisses you everywhere - lips, face, neck, chest - and bites as good as he kisses, all pleasure-pain and a glorious spiral down into abyss, where there is no gotham, no thoughts of loss and betrayal, just jerome's nimble hands working you hard and fast and his growling voice, reminding you who you are and who you belong to.

(madness.)

-

afterwards, he licks your come off his glove and lounges on your bed like a jungle cat, lazy elegance with a predatory spin as you come back down to earth. you watch him through half-lidded eyes like you’re seeing him in a far away dream, something just out of reach. but then you slide closer, place your forehead on his chest and breathe, just breathe.

his hand’s on your back, fingers like claws against each of your vertebrae.

 _knew you’d come around,_ jerome purrs, and you snort, smile into his chest, murmur the one phrase you know: _you and me, you and me._

_insanity._


End file.
